The Magic Wakes
Authors: Charity Bradford
Contents
WiD
ō
Publishing
Salt Lake City, Utah
Copyright © 2013 by Charity Bradford
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Steven Novak
Book Design by Marny K. Parkin
Print ISBN: 978-1-937178-30-7
Printed in the United States of America
For my family.
Thanks for being patient while I dreamed.
Acknowledgements
T
here are so many people that suffered through early versions of Talia’s story and still encouraged me to never give up on this dream. Thank you Kathy Taylor, Brian Sullivan, Becky Nesbitt, Mia Haysen, Edith Songer, Elizabeth Arroyo, Elizabeth Arundel, and Jen McConnel.
I also want to thank Janice Hardy for her honest critique and encouraging words afterward. And Michael Offutt for making me laugh when I needed to, kicking me when I needed that, and for starting my fan club before there was a reason to.
Thank you to my seminary students who always asked how it was going, and for not rolling your eyes when I got a little weird. Sure love and miss you!
A special thanks goes to Carol Coffelt for sticking with me through several revisions. It’s been a pleasure swapping stories with you.
Thank you to my wonderful editor, Amie McCracken. It was a pleasure working with you to make Talia’s story better than I hoped. I hope I get to work with you again . . . soon.
Finally, thank you to my best friend Laura Dawson and my family for listening to me whine and complain. I couldn’t have pulled this off without your support.
Prologue:
The Planet Orek
200 Years Ago
H
is resolve weakened. The candle gave off just enough light for Jaron to see the deep hole in the center of the small cave. There would be no turning back from this choice. No chance at redemption. It didn’t matter that there was no one left to condemn or forgive him.
He closed his eyes. The image of his wife danced through his mind. He loved how her long hair curled around her face in the breeze. Her eyes as pale blue as the sky, and just as clear, haunted him. Standing in the dank chamber, he imagined her in his arms. Her warm body. Her hair that smelled of flowers.
“Dailya, I do this for you and our son. Please forgive me.” His whisper echoed back to him.
Eyes open, book tilted to the light, he read the chant to call a demon from the depths of the earth. He spoke slow and soft until his resolve solidified. His voice grew stronger and the ground trembled.
The stench in the air intensified when a breeze sighed its way out of the dark hole. It looked like an insubstantial swirl of black smoke writhing in the air, but Jaron knew better. He took a step forward, opened his arms, and invited the demon in.
With the final words uttered, the demon coalesced and rushed toward him. It pushed its way down his throat, up his nostrils, and seeped into his ears and eye sockets as he fell to the ground. Jaron gasped for air, sucking in more of the evil substance that burned nose, throat, and lungs.
He was drowning. Drowning in evil. The demon screamed through his veins and mind as it forced its way inside. Anger and fear battled for control of his emotions. Jaron didn’t know if he wanted to torture someone or throw himself into the pit for a welcomed death.
Hold on a little longer
. He continued to suck in the demon. The last of the darkness rushed in when fireworks burst behind his eyelids.
His lungs filled with oxygen. Jaron’s hand gripped the edge of the pit and he pushed himself away until his back rested against the cool wall.
A crawling sensation started inside his skull. His hands scratched at his scalp, but the crawling tendrils of motion were under the skin, under the bone, and deep inside his brain.
The demon itch sent shooting pains into every part of his body. Legs, arms, and fingers twitched as the demon tried to move them according to his will.
Jaron called on every bit of magical discipline he had to retain power over his body. He made himself sit still and breathe while he concentrated on living in his own body. There must be no room for the demon except for the small space Jaron had set aside in his mind.
When the demon moved into that area, it pulled Jaron’s nightmares out of his memory and replayed them over and over again.
Memories of his return to a devastated world—the charred remains of his home. The demon fed him every fear and moment of loneliness and despair. Jaron’s tears flowed freely, but his training had been thorough.
He held onto his most precious memory. It alone prevented him from giving in to the darkness that tried to fill his body and mind. He remembered the look in Dailya’s eyes on the day their son was born. That feeling of love and completeness would always be with him. In life, she had been his savior; in death, she kept him whole.
Eventually the demon settled down in a corner, content with the promise of freedom from the depths of the earth. Jaron retrieved the book from the shelf with shaking hands. The candle had long since burned out. He searched in his pack for another one, lit it, and made his way out of the cave.
Back to the sunlight.
It was a high price to pay—his soul—but the demon would prolong his life and give him strength to carry out his plan for revenge.
Chapter 1:
The Planet Sendek
A
third vehicle carrying Space Exploration Foundation equipment had been attacked. The sleek bullet-shaped tram lay crumpled beside its track across half a mile of protected lands like an accordion. Its silver exterior was marred by scorches and by the thick orange foam used to put out the flames.
The last car in line had been ripped open, its contents carried away while those guarding it had been left in a bloody heap in the corner. The terrorists had left forty people dead and had stolen military grade communications technology.
“There’s another reason to stop traveling for the SEF.” Talia rubbed the stone necklace resting at her throat.
She didn’t want to look at the bodies; she focused instead on the surrounding wilderness. Trees, grass, everything near the tracks had been burned.
The reporter rambled on about the environmental disaster as if no one had lost their lives. Talia was relieved when the news feed was interrupted by the house computer, “Incoming call, SEF President Cahal.”
Talia smoothed her hair back. “Accept call,” she said.
The disturbing images were replaced by a gray-haired man in his sixties, sitting at a desk overflowing with books and papers. His kind face was ashen.
“Miss Zaryn, have you been watching the news nets?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. The program has taken a hit that puts us months, maybe a year behind schedule.”
“I can begin work on another satellite as soon as the parts are delivered.”
“Not this time. The board has decided it would be safer to bring you here. The parts are waiting for you, and this time you’ll have a skilled team to help. I’ve purchased a ticket from Gneledar to Joharadin for nine rising tomorrow. Your apartment will be ready by the time you arrive.”
Talia’s knees weakened. She stepped behind the couch and leaned on the back of it. Her vision blurred, and then she remembered to breathe.
“I can’t move to Joharadin,” Talia said.
“Sure you can. You’ve traveled to other locations for us, and it’s about time you stayed here for a while. Who knows, maybe we’ll finally convince you to make this your permanent home.”
It would be permanent all right. Death always was. She squeezed the couch tighter to keep her hands from trembling. There was no way out of it and no way to explain. At least not in a way a man of science could understand or accept, but Cahal had given in to her before. She had to try one more time.
“Sir, I’ve always worked remotely from my living room. There’s no need for me to move to Joharadin.”
“Miss Zaryn, this is about more than a few attacks and setbacks. The Royalists are making a big deal out of this. They’ve started an investigation into the SEF. They think we’re leaking critical information to some unnamed terrorist group.”
“You know I’m not the leak. I don’t have access to transport details.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. The Royalists are insisting that every member of our team be present in a face-to-face presentation.” Cahal clasped his hands in front of him and leaned toward her from his desk. “That includes you. Either you can move here for the next year of your own free will, or the Royalists will arrest you and drag you here anyway.”
“Yes, sir.” Talia’s shoulders sagged. “Cahal, can I ship a personal project I’m working on as well?”
“You can send anything you like, as long as you’re on that tram tomorrow. Unless I can convince you to take an aeroflyer?” His eyebrows lifted in hope.
Talia sighed. “I’ll be on the tram. You know I prefer to stay close to the ground.”
“You’ll have to get over that. The environmentalists have been trying to phase out the tram lines for years, and these attacks have added fuel to their cause. The aeroflyers will soon be the only way to travel.”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I have to.”
“Very well. I’m meeting you myself, so there’s no backing out. I’ll come all the way to Gneledar before I let the Royalists bring you in.”
He winked at her and let the ghost of a smile twitch the corners of his lips. With a wave of his hand the Space Exploration Foundation’s emblem replaced his image.
Talia collapsed on the couch and stared at the phoenix rising into a star-filled sky. After a moment, the screen shut off and she rested her head in her hands.
Joharadin, capital of Algodova. There were plenty of reasons to stay as far away as possible but no way to explain them to Cahal. He might exude a grandfatherly attitude toward her, but he was still a man of science. Talk of prophetic dreams would not go over well.
A small furry creature shot from under the table and bounced onto her lap. Keeta nuzzled his way under her arms as Talia stroked his back and fluffy tail. With each movement he fanned his tail wider and purred in contentment.
“Keeta, you always know how to make me smile. Don’t worry, you’re coming with me.” She stared into his bulging black eyes that swiveled back and forth. “Maybe I should set you free instead.”
Keeta trilled, spun in a circle, and lay down in her lap. With a laugh, Talia set him down on the couch. She could never leave him behind.
“Raise blinds.” Talia spoke the command and the house computer obeyed. The trees blocked the view of the city, but she knew it was there. Her hometown.
Generally, she welcomed traveling to other cities for the SEF. The time in the company of co-workers offered a semblance of a social life.
But not to Joharadin, the city from her nightmares. A dull ache formed behind her eyes and she rubbed at her temple.
The light from Sendek’s double suns filtered through the trees and into her living room. Flecks of gold danced with the shimmery green across the floor. The movement imitated her nerves. It was already starting.
I’ll dream tonight
. Talia sent her thoughts out into the trees and waited for their answer. Keeta’s head popped up as if he were listening as well.
We will be here when you do
, the trees sang back.
A wave of comfort washed over her, as she turned away from the peaceful view to pack her things. The satellite in the spare room needed to be disassembled and packed into crates.
She also needed to pack her clothes, which she did while trying not to think of her nightmares. How many times had she worn the red outfit in them? Perhaps she should leave it and pack something she had never worn in the dream? Would that give her a better chance of escaping fate?
In the end, she stuffed shirts and slacks in the bag without looking at them. It wouldn’t really matter. One time she had recycled all her clothes, purchased new ones, and then dreamed about each outfit over the course of two months. The dreams changed to fit whatever she owned.
The last thing she did before crawling into bed was set out her journal and a pen. When the vision came she would be ready to record it.
